


I joined the army

by under_the_perseids



Series: Before We Get Started, Does Anyone Want to Get Out? [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Becca & Randall make a brief appearance, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Dancing, Steve gets in a fight, Top Steve Rogers, WWII, birthday hand job, brief dissociation, brief panic attack, the Barnes family is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_the_perseids/pseuds/under_the_perseids
Summary: The rest of Bucky's family finds out about him and Steve.  The war makes its first impact on their lives.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Before We Get Started, Does Anyone Want to Get Out? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048645
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in 1942, about 3 years after previous part. 
> 
> TW: Bucky has a brief panic attack and dissociates slightly. Starts at "Bucky stumbled a few steps backwards until his back hit the wall and slid down" and ends at "'Steve...?'"

Steve was grumpy.  _ What else was new?  _ And nothing Bucky said was cheering him up. So he changed tactics. “Steve, stop being so fucking dramatic. Becca and Randall will be over for dinner. To celebrate  _ your _ birthday. And then we’re going up on the roof to watch the fireworks, and we’re going to enjoy it, damnit. Now, stop being a curmudgeon and get up and go take a bath. You stink.” Steve glared at him, but he at least got off the damn couch,  _ finally _ . Before he headed out of the apartment to the floor’s communal bathroom, he gave Bucky a one-fingered salute. Bucky sighed. Steve had been in such a foul mood the last few days about turning 25. Bucky didn’t get it; it was just a number. But to Steve? Being a quarter of a century old made him ancient.

Steve came back into the apartment looking slightly less grumpy and smelling much nicer. July in New York was nobody’s friend. He was in his slacks and undershirt, hanging his towel up in their room, when Bucky came up behind to wrap his arms around the blonde’s torso. He buried his nose in Steve’s hair and inhaled. “Mmm...you smell good.”

Turning around in Bucky’s arms, Steve said, “And I suppose you’re going to take the credit for that?”

“I think I just might.” Bucky softly ran the tip of his nose along Steve’s hairline down to his ear. “You smell  _ delicious _ , sugar,” he husked out as his hands started to roam. Steve might frustrate the hell out of him at times, but he never failed to make Bucky  _ want _ him. His hands found his husband’s ass and pulled it in tight. A small gasp left Steve, and Bucky started to nibble his way down Steve’s long neck, careful not to leave any marks, even though he wanted to. Eight years together (and married for nearly three!), and Bucky still couldn’t control himself around Steve. He maneuvered them so that Steve’s back was against the wall, and Steve’s hands slowly untucked Bucky’s shirt. His hands reached skin, and Bucky was suddenly on fire. He crashed his lips to Steve’s, hands sinking into still-damp hair. Steve lifted a leg around his hips to pull him in close. Bucky could feel Steve’s hard cock against his own and groaned into his mouth. He ground his pelvis into Steve, sending shockwaves through his body.

“Fucking Christ, Buck.” Steve worked his mouth down Bucky’s neck, trailing heat as he went. Bucky moaned as Steve bit his neck and sucked.

“Stevie...that’s gonna leave a mark,” he breathed out as he arched his neck. 

“Sorry, Buck.” Steve did not sound sorry at all.  _ Asshole. _ His fingers reached Bucky’s belt, but before he could undo it, Bucky shook his head.

“Nuh uh...it’s your birthday, sugar.” He gave Steve a brief hard kiss before dropping to his knees. His hands held onto slim hips while he mouthed at Steve’s erection through the slacks. He looked up to see Steve’s head against the wall, eyes shut tight, mouth panting.  _ God _ Bucky loved taking Steve apart. If they had more time, he’d do it properly, but they had a birthday dinner to still prepare. Undoing his husband’s pants, he pulled out Steve’s cock, admiring it for a brief moment before swallowing him down. Steve hit his fists against the wall as Bucky worked the length down his throat. Normally he liked to take his time, make sure his throat was properly wrecked, but this was fast and furious. He worked his throat around Steve while one hand gripped the base of Steve’s cock and the other pulled lightly at his balls. Pretty soon, he heard Steve’s breath hitch and felt his hand in his hair. 

“Buck…I’m close. Gonna come...gonna--” Bucky felt Steve’s cock twitch before hot come poured down his throat. He swallowed as much as he could, but some still spilled out of his mouth. He gently pulled off as Steve slumped against the wall. He wiped Steve’s come off his chin with the back of his hand and then licked it off, making sure Steve was looking at him. “Jesus, Bucky,” Steve said with a touch of wonder in his voice. “You’re gonna make me hard all over again doing that.”

“Hmm...as much as I would enjoy that, we don’t have the time.” He tucked Steve’s spent cock back in his pants and buttoned him up. Standing, he leaned into Steve, pressing a kiss to the blonde's lips. “Love you, Stevie. Gotta get ready for your party.”

Steve groaned and pouted, “I don’t wanna.” He fiddled with Bucky’s shirt and looked up at him coyly from under his long lashes. “What about you, Buck? Don’t you want me to take care of that not so little problem down there?”

Bucky stopped Steve’s roaming hand and said, “Later, sweetheart. That was just for you.” He kissed Steve’s forehead. “Now seriously, I have to start prepping for dinner. Becks and Randall will be here in less than an hour.” Bucky walked into the kitchen, adjusting his pants as he did so.

Steve called after him, “You’re the one that started it, you know. If dinner is late, then it’s your fault!”

Dinner was not late, fortunately, and Steve’s mood had brightened by the time Becca and her husband arrived. They had finished eating and were sipping on cocktails, discussing the war. Both Becca and Randall had secured positions at the  _ New York Times _ , so they knew the latest news as it came in. Bucky personally didn’t like talking about the war as it fired Steve up and got him contemplating trying to enlist  _ again _ . He currently had two 4Fs under his belt. It was the one argument guaranteed to leave both of them resentful and drained for days afterwards. Bucky understood why Steve wanted to join, but his heart couldn’t take it. Ice froze every cell in his body at the thought of his Stevie in war. Steve was stubborn and fool-hardy and righteous and would take unnecessary risks if he thought it would help win the battle. He would be on the front line, guns blazing, not caring for his safety whatsoever. And Bucky….Bucky just couldn’t stomach that image, as it was inevitably followed by the nightmare of bullets tearing through Steve’s slim frame, red staining his pale skin, with Steve pushing through to get to the enemy. It haunted his thoughts and dreams.

Focusing back on the conversation, he heard Becca say, “My name has been put forth by my supervisor. I should be hearing in a few days where I’m headed.”  _ Wait, what? _ He really needed to stop his wayward musings when other people were around.

Steve looked impressed. “Do you have a choice in what you cover?”

“Yes,” Becca responded, “and no. There are certain things I won’t be able to report due to military intelligence restrictions. But I’ll be pointed in a loose direction, and then I’ll be able to take it from there. 

Randall chimed in, “I kept getting denied accreditation, but we’ve subsequently been told that I’ll receive it when Becca does.” 

“I’m assuming that’s because you’re not white?” Steve asked, disgusted. Watching the conversation hop person to person, Bucky felt like a late arrival to a tennis match. 

Randall chuckled humorlessly, “That’s not the official reason of course, but someone was uncomfortable with the idea. But my boss would have never recommended me to be a war correspondent if he didn’t think I couldn’t handle the job. And Becca will be ace at it.” He smiled over at his wife. “She’s the best reporter we have at the  _ Times _ if only everyone else realized it.” Becca blushed at the compliment, but smiled warmly back at Randall.

“Someone must have realized it, if you’re going to get your credentials,” Steve said to Becca. “I mean, Bucky and I have always known that you were going to do great things someday, ain’t that right, Buck?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, completely,” Bucky said, still a little lost in thought. “All you girls are going to do great things. You are all smarter and more talented than I certainly am.” And that was no lie. Bucky did well in school, but he thought his sisters far outshone him. If they had been boys, all the Ivy Leagues would have been competing over them. It was no surprise to Bucky when Becca had been hired by the  _ New York Times _ and quickly made a name for herself. And now, unsurprisingly, his little sister was going to be a  _ war correspondent! _ Bucky knew that they needed ace reporters on the front, but why did it have to be  _ his _ sister? She and Randall were a credit to their profession, but he didn’t relish the idea of his sister and brother-in-law being anywhere near the fighting. Hell, if Becca were near some guns, she might go ahead and  _ join _ the damn battle. She and Steve were quite similar in that regard.

Becca and Randall soon left after that, and Steve and Bucky went to the roof of their building to watch the fireworks. Luckily, there was no one else there. Steve looked to Bucky and said, “You were awfully quiet there earlier, Buck. I thought for sure you were going to say more about Becca headed overseas.”

“Wouldn’t do much good. Decisions already made.” Bucky really didn’t want to keep talking about this. He wanted to enjoy the end of Steve’s birthday and pretend that there wasn’t a war raging on. “Can we not talk about this anymore? I just want to watch the fireworks.”

“‘Kay, Buck,” Steve strangely capitulated. 

They lay there in silence for quite some time, hardly touching except for their pinky fingers. This Independence Day felt different from years past; mostly due to the war, of course, but Bucky felt like this year it was marking the end of  _ something _ . He just didn’t know what. The fireworks were the same as they always were, but they felt like a finale, rather than a celebration. Bucky turned his head to the left to look at Steve, his strong profile giving Bucky comfort with its familiarity. After a beat, Steve realized he was being watched and turned to look at his husband. A small smile slowly grew on his face. “Whatcha thinking about, Buck?”

Bucky replied softly, “You. I’m always thinking about you, sweetheart. You should know that by now.” Steve gave his hand a gentle squeeze and hastily let go. Even though they were alone on the roof, years of repressing intimate affection in public spaces meant any moment they did show was fleeting. Bucky hated it. Hated that every touch had to be so infinitesimal or completely non-existent. It’s why they stayed home more often than not. They developed a sixth sense for each other’s proximity in order to maintain the illusion of  _ just friends _ . And Bucky hated it all. Which is why he threw all caution to the wind and rolled onto Steve to kiss him fiercely on the day that felt like everything was ending.

The last of the fireworks faded from the sky when Bucky finally pulled back, and he laid his forehead against Steve’s chest, allowing his breathing to stabilize. Steve propped himself up on his elbows and asked, “You alright?”

“I dunno,” he answered honestly, looking up at Steve, “maybe...maybe not. Let’s go back inside.”

They walked in silence back to their apartment. Steve locked the door and faced Bucky. “You wanna tell me what’s rattling around in that big ol’ head of yours, Barnes?”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t want this to start anything, but I’ve been thinking about you wanting to enlist, and Becca going off to report where the fighting is, and I just--” frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair, “it’s just all very overwhelming. Tonight felt like something changed. Like nothing is going to be the same ever again.”

Steve tried to reassure him, “Becca won’t actually be  _ near _ the fighting. And I won’t get into it, but you know my reasons for wanting to enlist.”

“I know, Stevie, but it’s just--I have this weird sense of doom closing in on me. Like feeling claustrophobic. And I just want to go back to this morning where you were cranky and everything was normal!” Bucky knew he was being ridiculous, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling. “And I wanted you to have such a good birthday, and now I’m ruining it.”

“Buck. Baby. You could never ruin my birthday. You make all my days better just by being here and being you. And I think you’re just in shock over Becca’s news. Let’s go to bed, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Bucky certainly hoped so.

* * *

Becca and Randall shipped out to England towards the end of August, and a week later, Steve and Bucky were having dinner at the Barnes’ home. With 16 year old Frankie and 21 year old Dottie still at home, there was definitely energy in the air, but Becca’s absence was keenly felt. They were all sitting around the dinner table, and Dottie was talking about her singing group  _ The Marionettes _ . In the last few years, they had gained popularity in the New York boroughs, but weren’t well-known beyond those borders. Bucky was immensely proud that his sister chased her dream and found a group to sing with. She had a beautiful voice. 

“Where are you performing next, Dot?” their ma asked.

“Well, actually,” she hesitated. “We’re joining a USO tour.” She kept her head down as if afraid of their parents’ reaction. Bucky was floored.  _ Another sister overseas? _ The encroaching sense of doom he had managed to push to the edges of his periphery through the heat of the summer came roaring back.  _ Thank fuck Frankie is only 16! _

There was a brief stunned silence before Steve came to the rescue. “That’s really swell, Dottie. How did Marion manage to wrangle that for you?”

Dottie had brightened up at Steve’s encouragement and answered, “Her uncle knows a guy who knows a guy, that sort of thing. They can’t always book the Andrews Sisters, you know,” she laughed, nerves still apparent. Bucky looked towards his folks who still hadn’t said anything. His pops had a white-knuckled grip on his ma’s hand. Frankie, on the other hand, looked deep in contemplation.

The teen finally spoke up, “Does this mean I can finally have your room?” The tension broke as his ma let out an exasperated sigh. 

“For all that’s holy, Frances Marie! Don’t go kicking your sister out already. My head is still aflutter from Becca leaving.”

“Sorry, Ma,” Frankie looked subdued at that. “I didn’t mean--”

Their pops interrupted, “It’s okay, Frankie. If Dottie’s okay with it, then we can certainly move your stuff into that room, right Dottie?”

Dottie smiled lovingly at their youngest sister, “Of course you can have my room, if you want. It does get that lovely sunlight in the morning.” Personally, Bucky was in agreement with his ma. 

After they finished dinner, Bucky stayed behind to help his ma clean up as everyone else went to the living room. His ma stood at the sink with her back to him. Winifred Barnes was a pillar of strength, had endured the Depression with four young children and made it out the other side alive, with everyone somehow healthy and well-fed. But it looked like this war would break her like nothing else could. Bucky reached a hand out to her shoulder, careful not to startle her. “Ma--” he didn’t really know what to say after that.

She turned around, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh, Bucky. I’m so glad that you and Steve are still here. And Frankie of course. Hopefully, this war will end before she’s old enough to do anything too stupid.”

“You’re not worried about me doing anything stupid?” he teased.

His ma looked at him fondly, “My sweet boy. Of course I am. But of my three children left, you are the least likely to do something rash, unless of course, it involves Steve. Where he is concerned, all bets are off.” Bucky’s heart kicked up a beat. She didn’t know, did she? How could she? “Don’t look so panicked, Bucky. I’ve known about you and Steve since you moved in with him, but I’ve suspected for much longer.”

Bucky slumped against the counter. He and Steve thought they had been so discreet. But maybe there were just some things that you can’t hide from your mother. “How’d you figure it out?”

“James.” His ma looked at him like a simpleton. Maybe he was one. “Besides the fact that you two have been glued to the hip since you were children? You forced that poor boy on so many double dates when he was clearly miserable, and I know you’re not a cruel friend. So there must have been another reason. And, of course, there was the fact that Sarah sent me a letter when she was admitted to the sanatorium.” Bucky’s mouth dropped open. “Did you not think that Sarah and I were friends all these years? She wanted to make sure our boys were looked after and didn’t do anything too foolish.” 

“Ma, why didn’t you say anything?” It would have been nice to know that she wasn’t repulsed by their relationship. She could have even attended their wedding!

“Maybe I should have. I guess I didn’t want to upset the boat, as it were.”

Bucky hugged his ma and whispered into her ear, “Ma, I wish you had said something years ago. We got married when Becca and Randall did.” His mother stiffened at the admission and pulled back to look him in the eyes.

“You’re married? You and Steve? And I missed it?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry I missed that! I’m so sorry.”

Bucky hugged her again. “It’s okay, Ma. You know now.” They stood that way for some time when a cough from Steve interrupted the moment. His ma opened an arm towards Steve, who hesitated.

“Come here, Steven.” Steve gave Bucky a questioning look but let himself be crushed in the group hug. “I’m so happy that you boys have each other, and that you’re still stateside. Sarah would be proud that you got married.” A weird almost-squeak left Steve. “It’s okay, dear. I’m more than fine with you two being together.”

Another voice added, “Oh good. Are we finally all acknowledging that Bucky and Steve are more than  _ just friends _ ?” They all sprung apart and looked at Frankie. “What?” she deadpanned. “Anyone who knows you two would know.”

“Know what?” George and Dottie peeked their heads through the door.  _ Jesus fucking Christ, what a nightmare. _ Bucky put his head in his hands while Steve awkwardly toed the floor, not looking at anyone.

Frankie turned to their pops and sister in disbelief and interrogated, “You mean you don’t know? How could you not know? Have you been living under a rock all these years?!”

“Frankie, what don’t we know?” Dottie asked softly. Bucky shook his head, willing his youngest sister to shut the hell up.

“That Bucky and Steve are a couple!”

“A couple of what?” their father asked cluelessly.

“Oh Jesus, George!” Winifred exclaimed. “A couple! A couple like us, like Becca and Randall. In love and married!”

Silence. Bucky looked to the heavens, pleading to any god who would listen to strike him dead right there and then. He heard Steve softly curse, “ _ Fucking fuck! _ ” Bucky apprehensively regarded his family. He would have laughed had he not been so utterly petrified. His ma had a hand to her mouth in shock, comprehension was slowly dawning on his pops, Dottie looked intrigued, and Frankie was bristling with... _ anger? _ _ What? _

“You’re married?! And I didn’t get to be there?! What the hell?”

“Frankie!” Frankie rolled her eyes at their mother.

“Can we just--” George had his hands up as if surrendering, “can we just back up a bit here and start over?”

Bucky’s ma stood in front of him and Steve, guarding them and shaking a finger at her husband. “Heaven help me, George, if you don’t accept them--!”

“Of course I--” He sounded wounded as he said, “Freddie, of course I accept them. I’m just in a little bit of shock at finding out that my boy is married. I just want to know more.”

Bucky hadn’t even realized that he was holding his breath until his pops said that. He exhaled in relief. “Sooo, just to be clear, you are all okay that Stevie and me are queer?” They all nodded. He looked to George, “Pops, what do you want to know?”

“When did you get married? How long have you been together, like that?”

Bucky held out a hand to Steve, who came and stood next to him, fingers interlacing. “We’ve been together since high school and got married when Becca and Randall did.”

Dottie asked, “Now, when you say  _ married _ …?”

Bucky nodded. “Obviously, not legally, but we said our vows to each other in front of Becca and Randall and his brother.”

“Two children married in secret!” His ma glared daggers at Dottie and Frankie, “You two better let me know when you’re getting married! I want to attend the wedding of at least  _ one _ of my offspring.”

Frankie defiant as always said, “You mean  _ if _ I get married. Maybe I’m going to be a spinster to the end of my days. I don’t need a husband.”

Before their ma and youngest sister got into a sparring match, Dottie said to Bucky and Steve, “Well, I for one, would like to say congratulations to you both. If you’re happy, I’m happy.” She gave them both long firm hugs. “However, I am saddened that we live in such a world where you couldn’t tell your family. Hopefully, someday that will change. I would have liked to have been there, but I’m grateful that you at least had Becca. And I will defy anyone who says your marriage is any less valid.”

“Thank you, Dottie,” Bucky said sincerely. Dottie may have been considered the  _ soft _ sister, but she had a core of steel like the others. “I wish you all had been there, too. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

“None of that now, Bucky,” his pops surprised him by saying. “How could you know how we’d react? I guess I should have figured it out sooner though.” He barked out a laugh. “I mean, what girls could have put up with you, what with Steve getting you two into constant fights?”

Steve ducked his head sheepishly, but smirking. It was true, though. Most of the girls Bucky had gone on dates with back during school couldn’t understand his friendship with Steve and only saw him as bad-tempered baggage. Good thing for Bucky that neither of them wanted to end up with girls. 

“Any other questions?” Bucky asked his family.

“Just one. Can I give my son and his husband a hug?” George asked, smiling warmly. Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes and a knot formed in his throat, so he just nodded. His unbelievably kind, understanding, bear of a father enveloped him in a back-breaking hug and whispered in his ear, “I love ya, kid. You and Steve both. You are always welcome here.” He gave Bucky a thump on the back and went to hug Steve. Bucky spied tears forming in his husband’s eyes as George said something to him. Steve nodded as George stepped back. The rest of the family followed suit, giving each of them heartfelt and generous hugs. 

After they got back to their apartment that night, they collapsed in bed in just their underwear and undershirts, too emotionally exhausted from the day's events to do anything more. “Your family sure is something else, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky chuckled, “That’s putting it mildly. And they’re your family, now, too.”

“That’s what your dad said to me,” Steve murmured. “And he called me ‘son.’ That felt real nice. Especially since I thought for sure that he was going to kick us out or worse when Frankie spilled the beans.” Steve rolled onto his side and burrowed his head into Bucky’s chest. He admitted softly, “Buck, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Me either, sweetheart,” Bucky said into Steve’s hair. “Me either. I couldn’t even move while that shitshow was happening. Goddamn Frankie.  _ But _ I am glad that everything is now out in the open. It’ll be nice to be able to be ourselves around my family.”

“Yeah, that’ll be nice.” Steve snuggled in closer and fell asleep. Bucky held onto Steve and soon drifted off himself.

* * *

The peace only lasted a few short weeks. Bucky came home after work one day, and Steve was just sitting at the table, staring off into space. “Stevie! What’s wrong?” His heart stopped. Had something happened to Becca or Dottie? “Sweetheart, talk to me!” Steve just pointed to an unassuming tan postcard sitting amongst the mail. Bucky frowned, but picked it up. Addressed to James B. Barnes, the words “ SELECTIVE SERVICE ” glared at him from the top of the card. His hands shook as he turned it over. He read, “ NOTICE TO REGISTRANT TO APPEAR FOR PHYSICAL EXAMINATION ” but didn’t read any more as the card slipped out of his fingers, drifting innocently to the floor. Bucky stumbled a few steps backwards until his back hit the wall and slid down. “No no no nonononononono,” he sobbed. “I don’t want to go. I can’t leave. I can’t, I can’t--” he started to hyperventilate and his vision tunnelled. He couldn’t breathe! His lungs stopped working. Why didn’t his lungs work anymore? Someone was crying. Was that him? What was going on? Why didn’t his body work? It felt like he had electricity running through his veins. He needed to get out. Out. Away. He had to get away. Go away. Just be gone. But the weight on his chest was too heavy. He couldn’t move. He needed to breathe. The weight prevented that from happening. What was going on? Were there hands on his face? They felt familiar. And a voice. That voice was familiar too. What was it saying? The hands lifted his face up. Blue. Steve’s blue.  _ Steve. His Stevie _ . The face in front of him came out of the tunnel and formed into Steve’s face. Steve’s beautiful face with beautiful blue eyes.

“--at me, Buck.” Steve’s mouth moved. What was he saying? “Come back to me, baby. That’s it. Look at me, Bucky.” Bucky focused on the blue and let the deep voice pull him back to the surface. “There we go. I’m here. Come back to me.” Strong thumbs swept over his face. His face was wet. Had he been crying?

“Steve…?” his voice was filled with sand. When was the last time he had spoken? He cleared his throat and tried again, “Stevie, what happened?”

“I’m here, Bucky.” Fingers combed through his hair, traced over his face, rested on his jaw. “I think you had a panic attack, Buck. You collapsed after you looked at your draft card.”

_ Draft card. _ He was going to war. “Stevie, I don’t want to fight.” 

Steve regarded him with sadness. “I know you don’t want to fight, Buck. You never have. You’ve only ever fought because of me,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for, sweetheart?”

“Since Pearl Harbor, all I’ve wanted was to be able to go and fight, and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why you didn’t. You’re healthy and strong and they’d take you in a hot minute, but the army just doesn’t want a scrawny thing like me with a list of ailments. And when I saw your draft card, I got so mad. At you, at the army, at life. But I was only thinking of myself.” Bucky wanted to say that wasn’t true, but Steve plowed on, “Never once in your life have you started a fight, Buck. But you’ve finished all of mine. You’ve only ever fought because of  _ me _ ,” he repeated.

Bucky hadn’t really thought of it before, but Steve did have a point. “Steve, you just have strong convictions and a great heart. If you were my size, then you wouldn’t need to fight. But I wouldn’t have fought if I really hadn’t wanted to. You never start fights unjustly. Foolishly, yes. But not unjustly.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” Steve said. He fell silent, still crouched on the floor in front of Bucky. It looked like he wanted to say more, so Bucky remained quiet and just took in his Stevie. Fierce, stubborn, independent Stevie who would do anything for those he loved. What was Bucky going to do without him?

“Buck?” Steve was looking at him, uncharacteristically timid. “I don’t want you to go to war,” he said in a small voice, as if ashamed of what he was saying. “I don’t want to be left behind. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want to be forgotten.” 

_ What?! _ How could Bucky ever forget Steve? He reached out a hand to wipe away a few tears that had fallen from the blonde’s eyes. “Steve. You’re my anchor. I’m not gonna forget you.” He held out his arms, “C’mere.” Steve crawled into Bucky’s lap and tucked his nose into the brunette’s neck. Grateful to have Steve in his arms, Bucky said, “And besides, it’s not like I’m shipping out to the front tomorrow. I’ll still have to go to basic training for a few months before that happens.” So consumed with how to keep Steve from enlisting, Bucky hadn’t even considered the possibility of himself being drafted and leaving Steve behind. And if he  _ had _ given it thought, he wouldn’t have thought that Steve would be worried about being forgotten.

They stayed that way on the floor for some time, not talking, just simply holding on to each other. Until Bucky said, “Uh, sweetheart, can you get up? My ass is asleep.”

Steve snorted, lightening the mood slightly. “Sure thing, dollface.” Steve stood and held a hand out to help Bucky up. He held onto Bucky’s hand even after Bucky got up and enfolded him into a hug. Steve’s voice was slightly muffled by Bucky’s chest as he said, “I love you, Bucky Barnes. Don’t you forget that.”

Blinking back tears, Bucky replied, “Never, Stevie. I love you, too.”

* * *

Bucky’s folks had been nonplussed but resigned when he told them about being drafted. His ma didn’t even cry, but he suspected she would later on in privacy. His pops just kissed him on the forehead and said simply, “Write as often as you can.” Surprisingly, it was Frankie who showed the most emotion, and she usually kept her feelings under closer wraps than even Steve did. Bucky didn’t even finish his sentence before she barreled into him and squeezed him so hard he had trouble breathing. She didn’t let the tears fall, even though they threatened to, and said with a quiver in her voice, “Show ‘em what you can really do, Bucky. Don’t be modest and maybe you won’t end up as cannon fodder.” She finally let go of him and said, almost to herself, “I’m going to miss you so much, big brother.”

Bucky hugged her again at that and said, “I’m going to miss you, too, Frank ‘n’ Beans.” He used her hated nickname in the hopes that it would lift her spirits and took it as a small victory when she shoved him half-heartedly. 

As he was leaving, he turned back to his family. “Take care of Steve for me, will ya, when I leave? Frankie, annoy the hell out of him, okay?”

His ma snuffled and said, “Of course, dear. He’ll get so sick of us.”

“Thanks, Ma.” He wasn’t leaving for basic for a few weeks yet, but this farewell felt final. Bucky did his best to ignore what he was actually feeling in order to just keep going forward. One foot in front of the other; that’s all he could do.

His final night before leaving found him and Steve on their couch, their barely-touched dinner still on the table. Bucky had his head on Steve’s lap while Steve ran his fingers through the brunette’s hair. “They’re going to cut your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair, Buck. They’re going to cut it. It’s not regulation length.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “It’ll grow back, Stevie.” Steve had always loved his hair, and Bucky kept it a little longer than fashionable because of that.

Steve gave a little tug, “I know that, jerk. You just won’t look like yourself, is all.”

“You’ll just have to use that perfect memory of yours to draw it, then. Keep a tribute sketchbook devoted to my perfect and delicious locks.”

“I know you think you’re joking, but I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll sell it in the future. Title it ‘The Magnificent Mane of the Well and Truly Vain Bucky Barnes.’” They burst into laughter, which felt so good and foreign. They hadn’t had much reason for levity lately. Their chuckles trailed off, and Bucky just stared into Steve’s eyes, searing them into his memory. He had to keep telling himself that he was just going off to training. He wouldn’t be shipped overseas until a few months down the line. He’d still be able to see Steve during furlough. But he didn’t want to think about any of that now. He wanted his thoughts to be of just Steve.

Standing up, he held out his hand to Steve, who gave him a questioning quirk of the eyebrow, but stood up nonetheless. “Let’s dance, sweetheart.” Normally, Steve would balk and complain that he was no good at dancing, even if it was just slow-dancing. But he obliged Bucky without protesting. They swayed in little circles for some time, music playing only in their minds. Bucky started to hum, then softly sang:

_ How much do I love you? _

_ I’ll tell you no lie _

_ How deep is the ocean? _

_ How high is the sky _

_ How many times a day do I think of you? _

_ How many roses are sprinkled with dew? _

Steve added his voice to the next verse:

_ How far would I travel _

_ To be where you are? _

_ How far is the journey _

_ From here to a star? _

Their voices faded back to a hum for the last few lines. Bucky tilted his head down until his lips found Steve’s. The kiss wasn’t passionate or heated, just simply born of a love that was nearly a decade in the making. Bucky pulled back to promise, “I love you ‘til the end of the line, Stevie.”

Steve looked at him and whispered, “And even after, I will love you, Buck.” He leaned in and gave a Bucky a quick peck. “Let’s not waste this night sleeping it away.”

Bucky smiled and followed Steve into their bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end is "How Deep is the Ocean" by Irving Berlin. Full lyrics can be found here: https://genius.com/Irving-berlin-how-deep-is-the-ocean-lyrics


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's life while Bucky is away at army training, and the brief interludes of when Bucky is able to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I googled what sort of training a WWII GI would go through and found that there was basic training and individual training, small unit training, and combined arms training, each all about 3 months long (but I did not verify if that was true or not, but it worked for my story).
> 
> I wrote this assuming y'all have seen Captain America: The First Avenger, so hopefully that will fill in some of the gaps you may notice.

Two months. Bucky had been gone for two long months. And Steve had to pretend like everything was normal. Like it was just his pal and roommate who went off to Basic. He had to still show interest in the world. And it was the hardest thing he had ever done. Even losing his mother hadn’t been this hard. But going over to the Barnes’ place helped. They insisted that Steve join them for Sunday dinner every week. It forced him to talk to people and kept him on a schedule.

It was early in December, and Freddie was trying to teach Steve and Frankie how to make apple crumble. And they were failing miserably and laughing hysterically about it. Freddie exclaimed, “What are you two going to do in life if you can’t even make the simplest of recipes?! You’ll not survive.”

Steve chuckled, “That’s what I’ve got Bucky for, Freddie.”

“And until the war is over? You’re just going to eat beans on toast?” Disbelief was written all over her face. 

“And mashed potatoes,” he whispered to Frankie, who grinned in delight. Freddie hmphed in surrender.

“Aww, come off it, Ma,” Frankie wheedled. “Me and Steve will be just fine if we don’t know how to bake apple crumble. And when will I have time to bake anyway? I’ll have college, then med school, then surgery residency, and then I’ll be too busy cutting people open to bake.”

“Frances Barnes! Do you have to be so crude?”

“In fact, yes, I do. It gives me great pleasure to torment you, Ma,” Frankie teased while giving her ma a quick hug.

Freddie swatted away her youngest and said to Steve, “What did I do to deserve such children, Steven?”

Steve’s smile was bittersweet. It was moments like this that made him miss his own ma terribly. “Don’t know, Freddie. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so kind, loving, and accepting.”

“Thank you, dear. You’re too kind” Freddie said fondly. She hesitated a moment before gently adding, “I mean no disrespect to your mother, God rest her soul, but if you ever wanted to call me ‘Ma’ you can. I don’t think Sarah would mind.”

Clearing his throat, Steve choked out, “I don’t think she’d mind at all, Freddie.” It felt so good to call someone that again. It could never replace his own ma, obviously, but it helped settle something within him. Even without Bucky there, he had family. Freddie embraced him, and gave him a quick kiss to the forehead. “Thanks. Ma.” Steve noticed that she had tears in her eyes that she quickly wiped away.

She huffed out a laugh, “All I seem to do these days is wipe away tears. I’ll just get done crying over something Becca has written, and then I’ll get a letter from Dottie or Bucky.” She dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes, sniffed, and pulled herself together. “So, I want to say how grateful I am to you two for being such poor students in the kitchen. It takes my mind off of the other things. So, thank you.”

Steve and Frankie made eye contact and sandwiched Freddie between them. They were all surviving the best they could. 

* * *

A week before Christmas, Steve came home from the library and was going to just crash on the couch when he noticed the jacket on the back of the chair. His heart jumped. Bucky wasn’t due home for a few days yet.  _ He couldn’t be here, could he _ ? And yet, there he appeared in the doorway to their bedroom, freshly showered, putting his wedding ring on his finger. He grinned at Steve, who still hadn’t moved, and smirked, “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna welcome me home properly?”

Steve took a few halting steps, then launched himself into Bucky’s arms, wrapping his legs around the brunette’s waist. With no thought for words, Steve kissed Bucky for all he was worth, pouring two and a half months of longing, desire, and love into the kiss. And Bucky hungrily answered, his hands pulling Steve ever closer. Steve could feel his eyes welling up with emotion, and soon he was sobbing into Bucky’s lips. “You jerk,” he cried. “I wasn’t prepared.” Bucky was also crying.

“I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. I would have written, but any letter would have arrived after me.” Bucky gently set Steve back on his feet and cupped his face to look into his eyes.

“I’ve missed you, Buck. So much.”

“Me too, Stevie. You’ve got no idea how much.” Bucky kissed him again, hard and fast, making Steve weak in the knees. “God, I love you.” Bucky kept kissing him, giving him no time to catch his breath, but Steve didn’t care. He kissed back just as desperately, just as heated. In the near 20 years of being friends, they had never gone more than a few days without seeing each other. Being separated for eleven weeks was practically unendurable. Eleven weeks without Bucky’s laugh, his smile, his touch. Steve hadn’t even realized how greatly he had missed his husband until he came home. 

“Stevie...sugar,” Bucky whined. “I need you. It’s been too long.” Steve wholeheartedly agreed on that point. They shed their clothes as they walked to their bed, lips never parting for long. They fell into bed, and, for a moment, just lay on their sides, studying each other. Bucky was more beautiful than he had ever been, lips red and kiss-swollen, his cheeks stained pink, chest heaving. Steve still couldn’t believe Bucky wanted  _ him _ , of all people. But in that instant, he didn’t question it as Bucky pulled him atop the brunette’s chest. “I want to worship you, sugar, and take my time, but right now, I really  _ really _ need you to fuck me. Fuck me hard and fast, make me come on your cock. I just need you in me.”

Steve felt himself go completely, almost painfully, hard at Bucky’s words. “As you wish, dollface. Let me grab the slick.” He reached into the nightstand drawer and grabbed the tin which had seen a great deal of use during Bucky’s absence. “How do you want to do this?” he asked as he slicked up a couple of fingers.

“I want to see you, kiss you.”

Steve settled onto his side, instructing Bucky to hold a knee up. Normally, he would take his time and make Bucky come before stretching him open, but Bucky said he wanted hard and fast. Bypassing the other man’s already leaking cock, Steve gently slid a finger to Bucky’s hole, trying not to tease too much. He pushed his fingertip against the furled muscle and slipped into the tight heat, which made Bucky cry out. Steve pulled back, but quickly realized pain was not the reason for Bucky’s reaction. 

“Oh, god, Stevie! Feels so good...haven’t been able to touch myself this way the whole time. Keep going, don’t be so gentle.”  _ Fat chance of that happening _ Steve thought. He wasn’t going to forego gentleness and risk hurting Bucky. Resuming his ministrations, Steve slowly worked Bucky open. He was about to add a third finger, when Bucky impatiently demanded, “So help me, Rogers, if you don’t fuck me right now.”

Steve pulled his fingers out of Bucky’s stretched hole and coated his own cock with slick. He repositioned himself so that he was between Bucky’s pulled up legs. “When did you get so bossy, Barnes?” Not wasting any more time, Steve lined up his cock with Bucky’s hole and slowly pushed in and didn’t stop until he was completely surrounded by his husband’s heat. They both groaned and paused to catch their breaths. Steve thought it likely that he was going to come much sooner than he would like. His hand just couldn’t compare to actually being inside of Bucky. He rested his forehead against Bucky’s chest for a moment before going in for a kiss, tongues finding each other easily. He started to just roll his hips a bit, making Bucky groan.

“C’mon, sugar, more than that.”

“Christ, Buck, I’m getting there. Give a guy a chance to get his bearings, why dontcha?” But Steve soon found his rhythm, and before long, he and Bucky just openly panted into each other’s mouths instead of actually kissing, their bodies slick with sweat.

It wasn’t too long before Bucky was arching his back and gasping out, “Gonna come, Stevie.” Bucky’s hole tightened around Steve, and he could feel the hot wetness of Bucky’s climax between their bodies. The pressure built up low in Steve’s belly, and soon he shuddered through his own orgasm. Steve collapsed on Bucky, and they lay like that for some moments before Steve rolled off. 

“Oh god,” Bucky said, “did I ever need that. Steve, I haven’t been able to finger myself for eleven weeks. It was torture.”

Steve looked over at his husband, drawing his brows together. “You mean, you haven’t masturbated this whole time?” disbelief laced his tone.

“What! No, of course not. I’ve jerked off plenty of times in the showers, all the guys do. But barracks aren’t exactly the ideal place to finger your asshole.”

Snorting, Steve conceded, “I s’pose so. Here, let me get us cleaned up.” Steve found Bucky’s still-damp towel hanging on the hook and wiped himself off. Using the other end of the towel, he cleaned Bucky’s stomach then reached to gently wipe at Bucky’s abused hole, which made the brunette wince. “You okay, Buck?”

“Yeah, like I said, it’s been awhile. I’m going to be sore. But I like it...I can still feel you then.”

Steve rolled his eyes and said, “That’s one of the most oddly romantic things you’ve said to me.”

Laughing, Bucky replied, “What can I say? I’m a charmer.” Steve crawled back into their bed and curled into Bucky, who wrapped his arms and legs around Steve. He whispered into Steve’s hair, “Never letting you go, Stevie.”

“I don’t think the army would like that, Buck.” Steve, however, would like that very much.

Bucky wrapped himself even tighter around the smaller man. “They’re just going to have to deal with it. They don’t need me, but I need you.” Steve thought his heart was going to burst. “I don’t like life without you, sweetheart. Letters just aren’t the same, especially when I can’t use your real name.” Bucky nuzzled Steve’s temple, leaving a soft kiss there.

Sighing and leaning into Bucky’s touch, Steve agreed, “I know, Buck. But we have to. I don’t want you to be court-martialed.” And what a thing to be court-martialed and jailed over: who you love. Steve didn’t understand how some people’s love was illegal while hate was perfectly acceptable and seen as the more rational way of life. But he really didn’t want to think about things like that right now. He just wanted to focus on the feeling of being in his husband’s arms again, even if Bucky’s hold was getting a little tight. He would take any amount of discomfort if it meant Bucky was with him.

* * *

Bucky had to go back for additional training the day after Christmas. Steve was thankful they at least got to spend the holiday together, but saying goodbye had been worse this time around because he knew how awful it was going to feel. But life continued much as it had for the previous eleven weeks: Sunday dinners with the Barnes, frequent letters to and from Bucky, working at the library, and doing art commissions as often as he could. Steve’s ache for Bucky hadn’t lessened; he just learned to co-exist with it. Some days he forgot that he wasn’t going to see Bucky walk into their apartment, and the ache walloped him so hard he would need to catch his breath. As the weeks went by, it happened less and less. 

Bucky’s birthday arrived, and it found Steve wallowing in self-pity. A knock sounded at the door, and for a moment, Steve imagined Bucky somehow made it home. But Bucky wouldn’t knock; he knew where the spare key was kept. Steve slowly made his way to the door and was surprised to see Frankie with a bag of groceries when he opened it. “Frankie! What are you doing here?”

She looked at him incredulously. “It’s Bucky’s birthday, Steve. Did you forget?”

“I--no, of course I didn’t forget! You didn’t say anything on Sunday about coming over today.” He realized how that sounded and amended, “I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome. I was just surprised, is all.”

“I could tell. Bucky didn’t want me to say anything, but in his last letter, he asked that I come over and spend his birthday with you. So, we’re going to attempt to make dinner and a cake together.” She set the grocery bag on the table. “I figure if nothing else, even if we fuck it all up, we can still have fun together and be distracted.”

A little lost for words, Steve did manage to eke out a quick, “Thank you, Frankie. That means a lot.”

She leaned against the countertop and not looking at Steve, said, “To be honest, this isn’t just for you. I really needed this, too.” She took a deep breath as if bracing herself. “I miss my family, Steve. I know I’ve still got my folks, and you, but it’s just not the same without everyone in Brooklyn. At least with Dottie, she’s relatively safe on the USO tour, but every letter I get from Becca has me so scared. And I just don’t know what I’m going to do when Bucky is finally shipped out.” Frankie finally looked up at Steve, and he could see tears welling up. He went to her and enfolded her in a hug.

“I miss your family, too, Frankie. I hate the way your ma is always trying to cover up that she’s been crying, and your dad hardly ever jokes anymore. It’s got to be tough living there.” Since Frankie had still seemed her usual self over the last six months, Steve hadn’t even thought about how much she had been affected. But she was just a 17 year old kid who had all three of her older siblings ripped out of her everyday life by the war. He knew he needed to try harder where she was concerned. He gave her a squeeze, saying, “And, Frankie?” He waited until she was looking him in the eyes to say, “Don’t forget, I’ll always be your brother, too.”

She gave him a small smile and replied, “Yeah? Always and forever?”  
“Yep. Always and forever. Let’s get cooking, shall we? Your ma is going to have a field day if we succeed at this.”

* * *

Bucky was coming home in June. Finally. Steve tried to focus his energy on that fact and ignored what would come after. He’d have one Bucky-filled week before his husband was shipped out. But breathing became rather difficult whenever he started thinking about the  _ afterwards _ . He just needed to think about the present. One day at a time. One moment until the next. One breath until the next. 

June arrived much swifter than Steve expected, and the evening before Bucky was due, he was nearly vibrating with anticipation. They’d decided that Bucky’s family would greet him at the train station as they wouldn’t be able to maintain a platonic facade. And Steve bristled at the idea that they couldn’t share a joyous public homecoming moment like all the other couples out there. What did it matter to other people that they were together? Who were they harming? They’d been together for nearly ten years with no infidelities. And who would want to, with Bucky at his side? 

Steve shook his head to clear it; he didn’t need to have those thoughts swirling around. To keep his mind from wandering, he ended up cleaning the apartment top to bottom. Exhausted, he fell into bed, thinking about Bucky.

When he woke up the next morning, Steve was barely able to contain his nerves. He tried three times to put his shirt on, only to realize that it was, in fact, a pair of pants.  _ Pull yourself together! Christ! _ He had to get through a whole shift at the library before he could see Bucky, and the way things were going, he wasn’t sure if he could keep his Faulkners and his Fitzgeralds separate. Steve was finally able to get all the right articles of clothing on the correct body parts, and even though he knew it was a bad idea, he brewed a strong cup of coffee and drank it rather quickly, burning his tongue. Hurtling out the door, he caught the subway and made it on time to work, just barely.

Having made it through the day without any major mishaps (there were some minor ones, but rectified quickly enough), Steve braced himself at the door to the apartment. He didn’t want to start sobbing on Bucky’s shoulder again, although it was most likely to happen. Slowly turning the knob, Steve opened the door and was met with silence and no sign of Bucky.  _ Huh...that’s odd _ . Bucky had promised that he’d write if there was going to be a change in his schedule, and he hadn’t mentioned anything. Steve put his jacket on one of the kitchen chairs when he noticed a hastily scribbled note next to the pile of mail. He picked it up and smiled at Bucky’s familiar scribble.  _ Gone out to get some groceries for dinner. _ Steve was just setting down the note, when he heard the key in the door.  _ Bucky _ .

The door opened, and there was his gorgeous husband. Grocery bag in one arm, key in the other hand, and his hair windswept like he’d been running his hand through it. Bucky’s face lit up at the sight of Steve, and he quickly set the grocery bag on the table. He wrapped Steve up in a big bear hug and even twirled him a bit. Both men laughed in pure delight. Bucky finally loosened his grip on Steve, and they just stood forehead to forehead, breathing each other in.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered. His fingertips delicately traced Steve’s face, as if he were committing it to memory. Steve closed his eyes while the world shrunk to just the two of them. His own fingers somehow had managed to tangle themselves in Bucky’s shirt. Steve pulled Bucky in close, breathed a succinct, “I love you,” and kissed the brunette hard and deep. Bucky responded in kind and held onto Steve’s hips to the point that Steve thought he might end up with bruises, not that he cared. Bucky was here, in the flesh; he’d take bruises any day for that. 

Bucky ended the kiss and chuckled lowly when Steve let loose an accidental whine. “How hungry are ya, Stevie?”

“I can wait.” 

Bucky grinned. “Good. Let me just put the groceries in the icebox. Get yourself naked and get in bed.” Steve threw him a mocking salute, but did as he was told. 

Dinner ended up being a  _ considerable _ time later that night.

* * *

The week passed by much too swiftly for Steve and somehow it was Bucky’s last day. Steve woke up entangled in the sheets and Bucky’s limbs. Without even opening his eyes, he knew that Bucky was staring at him. Groggily, he said, “That’s real creepy, Buck.” He blinked open his eyes to find the brunette smiling softly at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Too bad, punk. I’m gonna stare as much and as often as I can.”

“How long you been awaaaaake?” yawned Steve, stretching his arms out. 

Bucky shrugged. “A while. Wasn’t really paying attention to the time.”

“What do you got to do today?” Steve wanted Bucky to himself the whole day, but he knew that Bucky still had some stuff to get done before shipping out.

Bucky ducked his head and said dolefully, “I have to get my dress uniform, and then I have to get some affairs in order.”

Waking up fully at that, Steve sat up and asked, “What do you mean?”

Bucky still didn’t look at Steve. “Going to set up my will, just in case…” he trailed off.

_ Ah _ . That was just their reality now. Steve didn’t understand why Bucky was so upset over that. “Bucky. I know you don’t want to think about that, but we have to. It’s the smart thing to do.”

“I know sweetheart, but it’s just so...final. And I want to be able to leave everything to you, but I don’t know if they’d accept that. And I don’t want them investigating into our relationship in case the will gets contested, and you end up with nothing, or worse.” 

Steve hadn’t thought about it that way, but Bucky had a point. He didn’t want the army or any other officials knowing about their relationship either. “Leave it to Frankie,” Steve suggested.

“All of it? Maybe my personal belongings, but I think I’ll distribute everything else between you and the rest of my family. That wouldn’t look too suspicious then.” Bucky scrubbed his face with both of his hands. “God, I hate thinking about all of this. The fact that I have to think about a will at all. The fact that I have to think that leaving everything to you could potentially cause problems! I hate it all.”

Steve took Bucky’s hands and rubbed them reassuringly. “I know. I hate it too, Bucky. I hate that we have less legitimacy than a guy and gal getting married after knowing each other for less than a month. It’s not right. It’s not fair. But it is what it is, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” He kissed the back of Bucky’s hand. “Let’s not dwell on that today, okay? Should we go to Coney Island?”

Smiling fondly, Bucky pulled Steve in for a quick kiss. “Yeah, punk, let’s go to Coney Island.”

* * *

While it was a bittersweet morning for Steve, he did manage to enjoy himself quite a bit. They went on most of the rides, and Steve made sure not to eat anything before going on the Cyclone. But before long, it was time for Bucky to run his errands. Steve walked back to their apartment alone, trying to not think about Bucky’s impending departure. When he got back, he tried to sketch but all that came to mind was a train leaving the station, with his husband on it. If only he could be on that train as well. It took only a moment’s hesitation before he grabbed his jacket and headed down to an enlistment office he hadn’t been to before. And once again, he got a big ol’ 4F stamped on his enlistment papers. Feeling even more downcast than he had been, Steve decided to go see a movie to distract himself. 

The movie itself hadn’t even started yet before Steve found himself in an alley getting pummeled by a guy twice his size. Each fist to the face knocked him to the ground, but he managed to get back up each time. The guy said, “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”  _ No _ . No, he did not. Years of back alley brawls had conditioned him to keep standing up even when he should have been knocked flat on the ground. 

“I can do this all day,” he said, attempting to swing at the guy, only to be blocked. An especially brutal hit to the temple knocked him down into a trash can. As he tried to get his eyes to focus, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” Steve tried to stand up but the world was still spinning around him, or maybe he was spinning around. He couldn’t tell. He rested his hands on his knees to try to focus on the trash on the ground. Bucky walked up to him in his dress uniform and said, “Sometimes I think you like getting punched.” 

Wiping the blood off his face, Steve replied, “I had him on the ropes.” He winced as he touched his temple. That was going to be a nasty bruise. His ears were still ringing a bit as well.

Bucky picked up his dropped enlistment papers and asked, “How many times is this?” It was his fifth attempt, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Bucky, who would be furious with him. The brunette said, “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form? And seriously, Jersey?” Of course Steve knew it was illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And of course, Bucky would be more upset about him saying that he was from Jersey than about the actual lying. 

Steve looked more closely at Bucky’s uniform and noticed the chevrons on his sleeve. “You get your orders?”

“The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” Anyone walking by would think that Bucky’s smirk and tilt of his head was cockiness, but Steve knew that he was covering up his fear. Bucky often feigned absurd confidence when he was feeling none. And he also underplayed his achievements; he hadn’t said anything beforehand about his sergeant’s rank. Steve felt jealousy deep in his gut. He knew it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. Bucky didn’t want any of this. But he was in the 107th, the regiment Steve’s dad had been in. Once again, Steve felt that life had shorted him.

“I should be going,” he said, almost to himself. He rankled at the thought of not being able to serve his country, to serve justice.

Bucky’s face fell briefly before he plastered a smile back in place and said, “Come on. My last night! I got to get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?” Steve didn’t really want to go anywhere that night, but maybe Bucky wanted a distraction.

“The future,” he replied, handing Steve a copy of the paper with “World Exposition of Tomorrow” leaping out at him.

* * *

Later that evening, they found themselves in front of the Modern Marvels Pavilion since Bucky was obsessed with science fiction and the future. They came upon a demonstration where inventor and multi-millionaire Howard Stark was showcasing a floating car. Steve watched in wonder as the car slowly lifted off the ground, higher and higher. He heard Bucky say, “Holy cow” and he knew that Bucky was in heaven. The car was maybe a foot and a half off the ground when Steve saw sparks coming from the wheels...well where the wheels would be in a regular car. It came crashing down, but Stark hardly seemed bothered, joking, “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” while the audience clapped.

Steve was looking around at the pavilion and noticed a sign with Uncle Sam on it. If a car could float, for even a few seconds, then maybe he could finally enlist. With a single-minded focus that forgot about Bucky, Steve made his way to the recruitment center. He should have known that Bucky wouldn’t be too far behind.

“You’re really going to do this again?” Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration.

Steve shrugged, avoiding eye contact with Bucky. “Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” He also knew that he was pushing his luck with Bucky’s patience.

“As who, Steve from Ohio?” Bucky asked, irritation lacing his tone. “They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.”

Steve looked down at Bucky’s shoes. “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this.” They’d had this argument so many times before, and Steve knew they were both tired of it. But he had to try again.

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war.”

That got Steve’s hackles up. “I know it’s a war!”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs!” Bucky was getting upset and Steve could tell that he was doing his best to not cause a scene. But his stubborn streak was strong and he couldn’t back down.

“What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”  _ Like a kid?! _

“Yes! Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” The brunette tried to interject. “Bucky, come on. There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, clearly angry with Steve. “Right,” he said sarcastically, “‘Cause you got nothing to prove.” This was not how Steve wanted his last night with Bucky to go. But his heels were dug in deep, and he  _ had _ to try one more time. Bucky sighed, resigned. He backed up a few steps and said, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Steve knew that he was probably going to go dancing to let off steam like he usually did when they had this fight. He just hoped that Bucky wouldn’t imbibe too much; he didn’t need to be hungover the following day.

He tried to offer an olive branch, using a refrain from their childhood. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky shook his head, but there was a little smile on his face. He stepped back towards Steve. “You’re a punk,” he said as he leaned in for a hug.

Steve hugged back, glad his temporary peace offering worked. “Jerk.” He gave his husband another quick squeeze, hoping it wasn’t too obvious to the people around them.

Bucky walked away. Steve hated to see him go, but he knew from experience that they both needed to cool off after one of these fights. And he needed to try his luck one more time.

* * *

Steve had been asleep for some time when Bucky crawled into their bed, but woke up when he felt his husband’s warm body at his back. Bucky held him tight as Steve melted into the embrace. He was sorry that Bucky had needed to get away from him, but not sorry at finally getting the outcome he wanted. And he was not going to tell Bucky about Dr. Erskine. Bucky didn’t need that on his mind as he headed off to war. And Steve didn’t want to have another argument.

Steve felt Bucky place light delicate kisses along his neck which caused him to moan and arch his back. Bucky’s hand worked its way under Steve’s undershirt and traced along the smooth skin as he licked at the sensitive spot behind Steve’s ear. Steve couldn’t contain the shiver that went through his body. And then Bucky nibbled at his earlobe, knowing that would cause Steve to become fully hard. As Steve rocked his body into his husband’s, he noticed that Bucky was also not unaffected by the activities currently happening. He rolled over, and slung a leg over Bucky’s hips. Going in for a kiss, he realized that he didn’t smell any booze.  _ Huh _ . With his lips barely touching the brunette’s, he asked, “You didn’t drink tonight?”

Bucky rubbed his warm hand up Steve’s back and answered, “No. I didn’t want to become too drunk to do this.”

“Mmm...and what’s  _ this _ ?” Steve quipped, like an ass, knowing full well that Bucky wouldn’t be able to resist the retort.

“Sex, you punk. Way to ruin the romantic mood I was going for,” Bucky grumbled as Steve laughed.

Kissing Bucky’s forehead, Steve apologized, “Sorry, dollface.”

“No, you’re not, but I accept anyway.” Ceasing any more talking, Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve softly, letting the heat slowly build until both were rutting into the other. Hands roamed everywhere, trying to make memories last until who knew when. This was more than just fucking. This was nearly ten years of love, a lifetime of friendship. It was Steve’s apology, for fighting, for enlisting, for not telling Bucky. This was goodbye.

* * *

The next morning, Steve woke up to the sun and an empty bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! I love seeing your kudos and comments!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Captain America is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me so long! The events at the Capitol derailed my writing for a bit. 
> 
> This chapter had a mind of its own, so I hope it makes sense.

Steve had one week to prove himself. He had to somehow prove himself worthy to Colonel Phillips, who already showed his disinterest in him. Steve knew that the Colonel was looking at guys like that jerk Gilmore Hodge, and he guessed that if he were looking for a super-soldier, he’d look at Hodge, too. But Dr. Erskine had picked him. The little guy. The guy who attempted five times to enlist, even though he committed four felonies in doing so. He had never been so determined to win a fight.

But what a fight it was. Steve was pretty sure that he fell asleep each night before his head even hit the pillow. In the few spare minutes they had each day, Steve made sure to read his warfare books, just in case they could give him a leg up in training. His fellow recruits hardly made it any easier on him. But Steve had dealt with bullies like them his whole life; they were nothing new and easy to ignore. 

Then came the run. Steve thought for sure that he was going to have an asthma attack. It was miraculous that he hadn’t already had one, but through the grace of God, his lungs kept working. Sergeant Duffy had them stop at a flag pole and said it was only the halfway point. Steve wasn’t sure how he was going to run the second half. But then the sergeant offered a ride back with Agent Carter for whoever was able to get the flag. Steve watched as the other recruits tried to climb the flagpole; there was no way he was going to be able to do that. As he watched the men climb and slide down the pole, he noticed that there wasn’t a rope to the flag. If there was no rope to the flag, there had to be some other way to get the flag down. As Sergeant Duffy yelled at them to get back into formation, Steve walked up to the pole. He saw that it was held up with a simple pin lock mechanism. Sergeant Duffy yelled something at him, but he just pulled the pin out and let the flagpole fall to the ground. He unhooked the flag, gave it to the sergeant, said, “Thank you, sir,” and got in the Jeep with Agent Carter, who just smiled at him. 

On the last day of training, they were doing jumping jacks when he heard Colonel Phillips’ voice ring out with “Grenade!” Steve’s heart stopped. Everyone else dashed away to safety, but Steve couldn’t let anybody get hurt. Without even thinking, he jumped on the grenade, yelling out for everybody to get back. He waited for the explosion, but it never came. Finally looking up, he heard a nearby officer claim that it was a dummy grenade. Steve glanced at Agent Carter, then at Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips and asked, “Is this a test?”

While reading in the barracks that night, Dr. Erskine came to visit him with a bottle in hand and a couple of glasses. Everyone else had already cleaned out their bunks and were on their ways to other training camps. As Dr. Erskine sat down opposite him, Steve asked the doctor why he was chosen. He knew he wasn’t actually soldier material; he was nothing like the other recruits. He never told Bucky, but each time he tried to enlist, he hoped at some point the army would just be desperate enough for bodies that they’d accept him. And now they had. To be a lab rat. A super-soldier. He had no idea what was in store for him.

Dr. Erskine told Steve how he came to the attention of Hitler himself, and then his interaction with a Johann Schmidt, who sounded less than sane. He listened as the doctor explained, “The serum amplifies everything that is inside, so, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse.” He paused. “This is why you were chosen. Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength and knows compassion.”

“Thanks, I think,” Steve thought he knew what the doctor was trying to say.

The doctor grabbed the bottle of schnapps and poured them each a glass. “Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”

After Dr. Erskine left, with the liquor in tow, not actually having let Steve drink any, Steve thought about what the doctor had said. At the recruitment center, Dr. Erskine had said it was the five attempts that he was interested in. And now he said that Steve was a good man, that he knew the value of strength and compassion. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about all that. Sure, Bucky said all the time how Steve was special, but he didn’t really see it. Bucky also called him a stubborn ass every other day, and he could get hyper-focused on an issue to the detriment of everything around him (case in point, Bucky’s last night in town). Was he truly a good person that would become better? He fell asleep finally with that thought swirling around.

At the first hint of dawn, Steve woke up after a fairly restless night. Anxiousness made his fingers unsteady as he tried to button his shirt. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and reminded himself that he wanted this. Whatever happened today, he signed up for it. But how was he going to tell Bucky? Bucky was going to write letters home, and Steve wouldn’t be there to answer them. He’d be off in Europe, presumably.  _ Can’t think about that _ . He needed to focus on what was right in front of him. 

Soon enough, there was a rapping on the door to the barracks and Agent Carter stepped in. In her crisp accent, she asked, “Ready?” Steve couldn’t quite get a read on Agent Carter. He was impressed with her to no end, especially after she knocked Gilmore Hodge down with a single punch. But she was extremely professional, hardly saying a word outside of what duty dictated. Steve figured that she was rather like Becca and Frankie, not giving a damn about what people said about her and getting to where she was through pure moxie. 

Outside of the barracks, Agent Carter led them to a black vehicle, where a driver took them back into the city. As they drove through more and more familiar neighborhoods, Steve started pointing out places that he’d gotten beaten up. Agent Carter asked, “Did you have something against running away?”

He replied, “You start running, they’ll never let you stop.” And he knew. He’d tried it early on, but he was never fast enough to outrun them. “You stand up, you push back. They can’t say no forever, right?”

Agent Carter surprised him by saying, “I know a little of what that’s like, to have every door shut in your face.” Steve couldn’t even begin to imagine how many doors had been shut in her face over the years. But he couldn’t figure out why she’d even want to if she was going to go up against the much opposition all the time. 

And he told her that, saying, “I guess I just don’t know why you’d want to join the Army if you were a beautiful dame.” He heard Bucky’s ma yelling at him to not call a woman a dame. He tried to rectify his statement but ended up bumbling, “Or a beau...A woman. An agent. Not a dame. You are beautiful, but...”  _ Goddamnit, stop talking, Rogers! _ Steve couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth.

Agent Carter took some pity on him and said, not unkindly, “You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” At least she seemed amused by his blunder rather than put out.

A little relieved, he replied, “I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with one.” He didn’t count the women in Bucky’s family because they were his family, too. He continued on, “Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on.” Sure, Bucky had made him go on all those double dates over the years, but it wasn’t like those girls were really willing to talk to him. 

“You must have danced.” Certainly not with a woman like Agent Carter.

“Well, asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying.” He hated being turned down, hated that look they all got in their eyes when he would approach them. “And the past few years, it just didn’t seem to matter that much. I figured I’d wait.” Bucky still occasionally had made him go out on double dates to keep up appearances, but that had lessened as the years went on. As they got older though, many of the women didn’t turn up their noses as often, so he thought that one day he could ask a woman to dance in public and not be turned down. 

In a soft voice, Agent Carter asked what he was waiting for. Steve thought for a moment and responded, “The right partner.” He already had the perfect partner, but he didn’t know Agent Carter, couldn’t tell if she was the accepting kind of person or not. Even if she were, she’d probably have to report him if she found out he were queer. 

They arrived outside of a store marked “Brooklyn Antiques.” It certainly didn’t look like a place where there was super secret military experimentation going on. They entered the dark store and an old lady said something to Agent Carter, who mentioned an umbrella. It must have been some sort of code as Agent Carter led Steve to a back room, where they then faced a wall-to-wall bookshelf. There was a clunking noise, and the bookshelf opened to reveal a sterile hallway with a few military personnel coming and going. They walked to the end of the hall where the doors were opened for them, and they stepped onto a balcony. 

Steve was stupefied by what he saw. Men in white lab coats tinkered at various consoles surrounding a large chair-looking thing upon a dais. He spotted Dr. Erskine talking to a nurse, who looked up as he and Agent Carter walked in. Walking down the stairs, Steve started realizing what was about to happen. He thought he knew what he was in for, but did he really? He potentially might not survive. But he trusted Dr. Erskine, who was currently shaking his hand in greeting. Steve dumbly looked at the chair/table thing and the doctor asked him if he was ready. Was he? He had no idea, but he had already come this far. And if this was going to take his life, he’d rather it be in the service of his nation rather than a bad case of pneumonia. Remembering that he needed to respond to the doctor, Steve nodded. Words were not an option at this point.

_ Well, here goes everything _ Steve thought as he removed his shirt and tie. Down to just his slacks, he climbed into the machine. It was cold on his bare skin and loomed around him. He finally found some words as Dr. Erskine asked if he was comfortable. He half-heartedly joked, “It’s a little big,” trying to allay some of his fears. He asked, “Did you save me any of that schnapps?”

Dr. Erskine shrugged his shoulders and admitted, “Not as much as I should have. Sorry. Next time.” He then called over his shoulder, “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”  _ Stark?! _ _ Stark was involved? The guy who attempted a flying car? Which crashed?! _ But Steve trusted Dr. Erskine, and if  _ he _ trusted Stark, maybe he was okay.

Stark came over to look on while Steve had apparati attached to various body parts. “We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready,” then Stark said a little more uncertainly, “as we’ll ever be.” Well, that was exactly what Steve needed to hear. A little more confidence would have been nice. 

Nurses continued to prep him and get the machinery in all the right places as Dr. Erskine made a speech to the people in the viewing gallery. Steve didn’t pay attention to what he said. He focused on why he was doing this and tried not to think of Bucky telling him how stupid he was. A nurse injected him with something fairly painful, but not as bad as he was anticipating. He told Dr. Erskine, “That wasn’t so bad.”

With a hint of pity in his eyes, Dr. Erskine replied, “That was penicillin.”  _ Huh _ . That explained why it was painful; normally penicillin was injected in the butt cheek. At least, whenever Steve had needed it, that’s where it was injected. 

Dr. Erskine started the serum infusion countdown, “5…” 

_ Holy Mary, Mother of God _

“4…” 

_ Pray for us sinners _

“3…” 

_ Now and at the  _

“2…” 

_ Hour of our death _

“1…” 

_ Amen _ .

Steve hadn’t prayed since his ma died, but now seemed like a good time to take up the practice again. He watched as the blue serum left the vials and flowed into his body. Then he felt it. Being in and out of the hospital for his whole life, Steve knew what multiple injections felt like, but this was dozens all at the same time. It took his breath away. Steve heard Dr. Erskine say, “Now, Mr. Stark,” and the machine he was in slowly moved upright and closed in on him. Good thing claustrophobia wasn’t one of the things that affected him. There was a knock and Dr. Erskine asked, “Steven? Can you hear me?”

Steve started to feel his nerves rise up and in hopes of tamping them back down, he joked, “It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” His voice echoed oddly around him inside the metal capsule. 

And then he waited. He had no idea what was happening outside of the capsule. Suddenly, a bright light blinded Steve and overwhelmed his senses, except for pain. That was alive and truly well. He had thought he had known pain before, but nothing was like this. Every bone shattered and regrew, muscles exploded, his skin tightened and stretched. The pain was white-hot and melted him from the inside out. Before long he started screaming, not even realizing that he was doing so. He faintly heard voices, but couldn’t hear what they were saying. Focusing, he faintly heard Agent Carter telling someone to shut it down and then heard Dr. Erskine telling Stark to kill the reactor.

Steve had come too far for that. Somehow finding the strength and the ability, he shouted “No! Don’t! I can do this!” They must have listened because the pain continued, albeit less intensely. And then he was plunged into darkness.  _ Am I dead? _ But no, he could feel the lingering pain tingle across his body. He took a breath and found that his lungs filled quicker and deeper than normal. He took another breath. And another. 

Dr. Erskine shouted, “Mr. Stark!” His voice was so loud. The capsule opened. Cool air kissed Steve’s sweat-covered skin. He didn’t want to open his eyes yet; he just relished the feeling of oxygen flowing freely through his lungs. But Dr. Erskine and Mr. Stark helped him down, luckily so because he felt like Bambi on the ice. Everything was different and overwhelming. The dais filled with people. Everyone’s whispers reached his ears loud and clear, colors he had never seen before were screaming at his eyes, the deep breaths were making him dizzy.

Agent Carter stepped in front of him and asked, “How do you feel?”

How could he answer that? He felt. Everything. But looking over everybody’s heads, he replied, “Taller.” She handed him a T-shirt, which he put on quickly. He was still taking everything in when there was an explosion that came from the viewing gallery, and glass rained down. 

Steve’s ears were ringing and he was trying to gain his senses when Dr. Erskine’s voice rang out, “Stop him!” and then there were two gunshots. He watched in slow-motion as the doctor fell to the ground. He reached Dr. Erskine who had blood trailing out his mouth. Steve just looked at him, bewildered. He had no idea what to do. The doctor still had life enough to poke him in the chest, reminding Steve to be a good man. His hand fell away, and Steve saw the life leave his body.

The doctor had been a good man and hadn’t needed to die. The inequity of it all made Steve’s blood boil. He hurtled up the stairs and flew out the front door of the store in time to see Agent Carter shooting at a yellow taxi driving straight at her. He knocked her to the ground where she proceeded to yell at him. Taking off after the taxi, Steve realized that he could keep up with the car. His new body was difficult to adjust to, though, as he crashed through the window of a wedding gown shop. He caught up with the taxi again, though, by leaping from car roof to car roof. He would find time later to marvel at what his new body could do. Right now, he had to take down a killer. 

He leapt onto the roof of the taxi and held on for dear life as it careened down the streets of Brooklyn, the driver swerving in hopes of flinging him off. The driver then started shooting at Steve through the roof. Somehow, Steve managed to dodge the bullets. The taxi hit a delivery truck and flung Steve off while rolling over multiple times itself. The driver made it out of the taxi alive and started shooting at Steve, who quickly grabbed a taxi door that had flown off and used it as a shield. The man then grabbed a young boy to keep Steve from going after him. Steve knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to hurt the child, so he followed at a slightly more sedate pace, still having to dodge the occasional bullet. Steve looked around the corner of one of the loading docks and saw the man holding his gun to the boy’s head. Panic shot through Steve. He held up his hands, pleading, “Wait, don’t! Don’t!” In an instant the man raised the gun towards Steve and pulled the trigger. Luckily for him, the gun was out of bullets. But he didn’t have any time to think about that as the man heaved the boy into the water and ran down the docks. 

Steve hurried to the edge of the dock and the boy shouted up at him, “Go get him! I can swim!” Steve took off after the man and saw him get away in a futuristic personal submersible. Without hesitation, he dove into the water, not even thinking that his new lungs wouldn’t work. He quickly caught up and punched a hole right through the window. Opening up the lid, Steve grabbed the man and pulled him to the surface where he proceeded to throw him onto the dock. He climbed out of the water and approached the man who swung at him with a knife. Steve kicked him and a vial of the serum that the man had stolen went flying and broke as it landed on the concrete. 

Grabbing the man’s lapels, Steve demanded, “Who the hell are you?!”

“The first of many. Cut off one head,” the man responded cryptically, dislodging a tooth and biting down on it, “two more shall take its place.” He started to foam at the mouth and grunted, “Hail Hydra.” He convulsed, then went still. Steve was shocked; he didn’t know what to think.  _ Hydra was in the US? _ _ How could that be? _ And this guy just killed himself for its cause. 

He stood up and finally had a moment to think after being injected with the serum and looked in wonder at his arms. They had to be his; they were attached to his body. But they didn’t look or feel like his. The rest of his body either. If he didn’t think about it too much, he could avoid the uncomfortable sensation of an out-of-body experience. He supposed he’d get used to it, eventually.

* * *

Somehow, Steve found himself standing in front of a mirror, donning a knitted cowl with tiny wings on the side, preparing to go on stage. He felt ridiculous in the gaudy outfit, but Senator Brandt said it would look patriotic on stage and help sell bonds. Because apparently that was all he was good for now. With Dr. Erskine dead, it could take years, possibly decades, to decode the serum within his blood. Colonel Phillips had wanted to ship him off to a lab in Alamogordo and be studied. At least with Senator Brandt, he had the illusion of freedom. It was not how he thought he’d help the war effort when Dr. Erskine gave him the chance, but he thought it was better than nothing. And now he was going to be touring the nation as a chorus girl.

Before Steve had left on the tour, though, he’d needed to make a stop and see Frankie. He hadn’t even been sure that the senator was going to allow it, but Steve spun a tale of needing to see a dying friend before leaving town. He was pretty sure the senator let him go just to get him to shut up. 

* * *

He was going to gather some things from his apartment before heading over to see Frankie. As he was walking up the stairs, he realized how much smaller it felt. It was like a long-forgotten memory, familiar, yet everything was slightly askew. He opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside. Homesickness and longing for Bucky hit him hard and unexpectedly. Was it even two weeks ago that he’d met Dr. Erskine? It felt like ten years ago. But Bucky had been in this apartment less than two weeks ago. He’d still been little Stevie Rogers, then, too. And now? What was he?

His musings were interrupted by a shrill shriek. He whirled around to see Frankie standing in the doorway. He started to smile at her, but she started yelling, “Who the  _ hell _ are you and how’d you get in here? This is my brothers’ apartment!” He’d been so glad to see her that he forgot she couldn’t see  _ him _ .

“Frankie, it’s me,” he said as calmly as he could. “It’s Steve. I need to explain.” If he’d hoped that that would calm her down, he was sorely mistaken.

“Too right you need to explain,  _ Steve _ , since I don’t believe it’s you!” She came into the apartment and closed the door so the neighbors wouldn’t nose in. She crossed her arms and glared at him fiercely. Who needed super soldiers when you had pissed off Barnes girls? 

Steve put his hands out like he was placating a spooked horse. “It’s me, Frankie, I promise. I know it’s hard to believe. My voice hasn’t changed though. Please listen to that.” The glare was infinitesimally lesser than before. “My name is Steven Grant Rogers, born on July 4th, 1918. Your full name is Frances Marie Barnes, Frankie to most. Bucky loves to call you Frank ‘N Beans just to piss you off. You and I are terrible cooks, but we have fun together, regardless. Is that enough or do you need me to go on? I’ve got 17 years of memories of you.” If she didn’t believe him, what was he going to do?

Frankie took a step towards him, then another, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at him accusingly. “What the  _ ever-loving fuck _ have you done, Steven? And  _ where _ the fuck have you been? You missed last Sunday dinner. I came to check on you, and you weren’t here. We started to think that you were lying dead in an alley somewhere! Jesus Christ, Steve, I’m relieved to see that you’re alive, but I am so mad at you right now.” She seemed to have suspended any disbelief, at least, which Steve was grateful for. 

He took a hesitant step towards her, wanting to give her a hug but unsure if she’d allow it. “I really didn’t mean to worry you or your folks. Everything just happened so fast that there was no time to contact you. There was hardly time to even think. Can we sit down?” Frankie didn’t answer, but she went to the couch and sat woodenly.

“Talk.”

Steve followed Frankie to the couch, but sat at the other end. “You think you’re mad now, but you’re going to be livid. Just giving you fair warning.” Steve knew he was not prepared for Frankie’s wrath. He let out a slow breath and started explaining about Bucky’s last night in town to the week of training to the serum. Frankie listened without interruption until he started describing chasing down the man who murdered Dr. Erskine.

“Steven Grant Rogers! Of all the foolish, stubborn, asinine things to do! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that the man who killed Dr. Erskine was going to get away unless I went after him! And good thing I did, too, because he wasn’t able to get away with the serum.” Steve would not be guilted into regretting his actions that day. “I know it was maybe not the smartest move, but I was literally the only one who could catch him!”

Frankie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Sure sounds like that Agent Carter could have done just fine if you hadn’t tackled her.”

“I didn’t want her to get hit by the car!”

Rolling her eyes, Frankie admonished, “Steven. How long has Agent Carter been doing her job? And you were just mere minutes out of that machine? Jesus Christ, Steve, sometimes you are really dumb.”

“I had to act fast,” he muttered petulantly under his breath, not looking at Frankie. She may have had a point. But he couldn’t change anything now. Steve looked at Frankie and said stubbornly, “What’s done is done.”

She contemplated him for a moment. “You know, you’d just have to tell that story and anybody would know that it’s you.” Steve let out a sigh of relief; if Frankie could joke, then she wasn’t totally on the warpath. She asked, “So what now?”

“Now? Now I go on the road as part of a show to raise bonds. Not where I’d like to be, but my other option was to be shut away and poked and prodded for the rest of my life.”

“What kind of show?”

“Oh, it’s a whole song and a dance thing with me being ‘Captain America.’ It’s all quite ridiculous, but Senator Brandt thinks it will sell loads of bonds. And if I can’t actually fight, then at least I’m doing  _ something _ for the war.”  _ Better than collecting scrap metal like Bucky wanted _ .

“Hm,” Frankie considered. “So, you’re a show girl?” 

Steve could tell she was fighting back a grin; he couldn’t help his grin either. “Hey, I’ll be doing important work here.” In more seriousness, he asked, “So, you’re okay with all of this? Or as much as you can be?”

Giving him a tender look, Frankie replied, “Like you said, what’s done is done, so I have to be okay with it. I’m so very glad I didn’t know about it ahead of time, though. But are  _ you _ okay with all of this?”

“Yeah, but I sure could use a hug.” Frankie flew at him so quickly that he knew she had been needing reassurance as well. He often forgot how young she actually was. 

She whispered into his neck, “You could have died, Steve. I could have lost you, and I wouldn’t have known what happened.”

Steve gave her a tight squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. I was just thinking of myself.” She sat back, and Steve saw tears in her eyes. “Truly, I am sorry. But speaking of not knowing what might possibly happen, I have a few documents to give you.” She looked at him curiously as he got off the couch and went to grab the box with his and Bucky’s documents from their bedroom. He sat back down, handed her the box, and said, “Both Bucky and I made you our primary beneficiary if anything should happen to either of us.” Frankie looked at him with wide eyes, the question lingering. He sighed. “We couldn’t leave everything to each other. That could potentially look too suspicious, so you were the logical choice. Some of our personal effects are in there too, not just the legal documents.”

Frankie warily opened the box as if she were afraid that by doing so she would cause Steve or Bucky’s demise. On top lay Steve’s watch that Bucky gave him when they got engaged and the ring Steve gave Bucky when they married. Steve looked at them with an ache in his chest. “But…” Frankie picked up the watch, collecting her thoughts. “But don’t you want this? Surely, you can wear this while on tour?”

“Probably, but I want it to be safe, and I don’t want Senator Brandt somehow finding out about it. The personal stuff in there is very personal, and there would be no mistaking mine and Bucky’s relationship if the army were to get their hands on it. I’d...uh….” Steve cleared his throat sheepishly. “I’d avoid looking through my sketchbooks.”

“Wha….why?” Frankie asked, and then Steve saw the realization dawn across her face. “Oh gross. Steve. Gross!”

“Hey! Bucky and I have been together for a long time, and he’s the perfect model.”

Frankie held up a hand. “You can stop right there! I don’t need to know what you and my brother get up to when you’re by yourselves.” She shuddered. “I will definitely  _ not _ look at your sketchbooks. Thank you for the head’s up.”

Steve chuckled but became more serious when he said, “ _ Thank you _ , Frankie. Bucky and I are both so grateful that we can trust you with this. I mean, we trust Becca and Dottie, too, but obviously, they’re not here right now.”

Frankie was silent for a moment. “Can I ask you a question?” Steve nodded. “What does it feel like? Your new body,” she clarified.

“It takes up so much space. I don’t feel like it’s mine.” Steve wondered if that sensation would go away as he got more used to the new him. “I’m bumping into and knocking things over. And I have to be extremely careful with how hard I hold anything. I’ve bent steel with my bare hands! I’m afraid that I’ll hurt someone without meaning to. But it’s all the noise and color that are really difficult to deal with. There’s just  _ so much _ of it. I can hear your heartbeat, for chrissakes.”

Frankie startled, but she recovered and tried to reassure him, “I think you’ll get used to it soon enough. But what are you going to tell Bucky?”

_ What indeed? _ “I have no idea. I can’t have him worrying about what I’ve done while he’s fighting. He needs to focus on what’s in front of him, not behind him. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to him. When he finds out, it needs to come from me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t need any secondhand anger directed at me. You can have all of Bucky’s fury,” she laughed.

“Thanks,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes.

They talked on for a bit longer, Frankie asked more questions about his new abilities, but she avoided asking about the process itself, for which Steve was grateful. He didn’t want to relive any of that pain. They came up with a story about Steve’s whereabouts that would appease George and Freddie. He thought they covered all the bases, with Frankie promising to stop by the apartment every few days to check the mail. As Frankie got up to leave, she asked, “Are you leaving tonight, or in the morning?”

“Tonight, unfortunately. The senator wants to get the show on the road as soon as possible. We’re starting off with shows on the East Coast, then we’ll head west. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Well, I’m going to miss you, but it’s a relief that you’re safe and that you’re going to stay safe. Write as often as you can.”

“I will,” Steve said, giving her a hug. “And I’m going to miss you, too, Frankie.”

After Frankie left, Steve just wandered around the small apartment. There wasn’t a whole lot in there besides clothes, even Bucky’s wouldn’t fit him now, but it was still home. All of his memories of his ma were there and the life he shared with Bucky. He went to sit on their bed. An overwhelming rush of emotions hit him so fast, he couldn’t even name all of them. Nostalgia hit the hardest, bringing tears to his eyes. He wanted to go back to a time when he understood his place in the world. And most of all, he just wanted to lie in this bed, cuddled up with Bucky. Even though he felt slightly silly, Steve grabbed one of Bucky’s shirts from their wardrobe and lay down with it on the bed. The scent was faint, but it still smelled like Bucky. He lay there with the soft shirt, just letting himself feel some of the sadness threatening to submerge him. He felt like crying, but he knew if he started, it was going to be a long time before he could stop. 

A few minutes later, Steve sat back up and shook himself, mentally and emotionally. He could feel sad, but that wasn’t going to change anything. And now he had a chance to see more of the world than he ever thought possible. It was a new adventure, a new challenge. Before heading out of the apartment, he grabbed the nearly empty bottle of Bucky’s cologne. Steve might not be able to have Bucky, but he could at least have his scent.

* * *

Steve grabbed his shield before heading out on stage. He’d now done the show so many times, that performing was just muscle memory at this point. Each time he punched Hitler, each time he lifted up the girls and the motorcycle, he didn’t have to think about what he was doing, and the audience always loved him for it. Senator Brandt also had him making movies and starring in his own comic book. Well, not as Steve Rogers. The country wasn’t aware of Steve Rogers, but they knew Captain America. And they  _ loved _ Captain America, who was so strong, so true, so noble.  _ What a crock of horseshit _ Steve thought. But it kept him busy. 

As the show finished and he headed backstage with the dancers, Gracie pulled him aside. “Hey Steve, me and a couple of the gals are going out tonight. Will you come with us?”

“Sure. With Daisy and Bernadette?” Steve had become friends with most of the women he toured with and went out with them fairly often. At first it had been awkward because many of them tried flirting with him, and he didn’t know how to handle that. They quickly realized, though, that he was not single and attributed his stumblings as loyalty to his girl. Now, they mostly used him as a buffer from unwanted men. A role that he relished. Now when a guy was being a jerk to one of the girls, all he had to do was glare and stand at attention. It was very gratifying after a lifetime of getting beaten up by bullies.

Gracie shook her head, making her blonde curls bounce. “Nope, Shirley and Evelyn. We’re trying out a new place, and I think you’ll like it.” She gave him a sly smile and a wink.

Steve pulled her aside and made sure that no one was around. “What do you mean?” he asked, concerned.

“I mean that I think you and I have something in common that most folks just don’t understand. I don’t think you really have a girl back home, do you?”

Steve paled and stuttered, “H-how….wh-what. Of course I have-.” 

“Steve, it’s okay.” She smiled knowingly and opened the locket hanging hidden under her outfit. There was a picture of a dark-haired woman with a beautiful smile and luminous eyes staring back at Steve. Gracie closed the locket and said, “My Maureen, or Mo, as she prefers. We’ve been together for three years. How long you and your fella been together?”

“Ten years,” Steve admitted before he realized what he was saying. His heart was trying to break free from his rib cage and his palms were dripping. “Umm...so that’s really your girl? You’re not yanking my chain here?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Steve. You’re a good guy.” She put a gentle hand on his arm. “So, what do you say about tonight? Shirley and Evelyn found a place for people like us, and since we’re heading to a new city in the morning, we thought we’d give it a try.”

“Uh...sure, yeah, I guess. But I’m not going to be interested in anyone.” And he didn’t dance, so Steve didn’t really see the point of going.

Gracie’s musical laugh rang out. “Well, of course not. I won’t be either, but it will give us a chance to talk freely. I think you might need it, and I definitely do. Plus, we still like having you as our bodyguard.”

Steve started to laugh with Gracie, but then sobered up as he said, “But what if I’m recognized? Brandt would kill me if Captain America was seen at one of those joints.”

But Gracie had a ready answer, “Oh, we’ll just say me and the girls wanted a night out without men clamoring after us, and you offered to make sure we were safe.”

“You think that’ll work?” Steve was skeptical. He was sure to be recognized, especially after having so recently performed a show. But he trusted Gracie and her ability to talk her way out of riddling with the Sphinx. It was truly a gift.

“Yes. We’ll be fine. If anything else, we can say we were led astray by fiendish locals.”

* * *

It wasn’t as if Steve and Bucky had never visited joints like this back in New York, but without Bucky by his side, Steve just became depressed witnessing all the happy couples around him. But Shirley and Evelyn’s joy buoyed him; it was their first time being able to actually act like a couple. Steve was happy for them, truly. But he ached for Bucky, his caress, his lips, his solid presence anchoring Steve. He didn’t often let himself go down that path, but tonight, he just couldn’t help it. 

Gracie nudged his arm. “Thinking of your fella?”

Taking a sip of his whiskey, Steve replied, “That obvious, huh?”

“Hard not to in a place like this. I see Shirls and Ev out there, and it reminds me of Mo.”

Steve nodded and asked, “How’d you meet Mo?”

“In a joint like this actually. It was my first time, and I was scared shitless, let me tell you. I was so afraid someone was going to recognize me or that a man would see fit to ‘teach me a lesson.’ Mo saw my anxiety and rescued me. She sat with me, and we just talked. After a while, she asked if I wanted to dance. And the rest is history.” Gracie smiled fondly at the memory. “What about you? Where’d you meet your guy?”

It was Steve’s turn to smile. “I was six; Bucky was seven. He rescued me too, but  _ don’t ever _ tell him I said that. I’d never live it down.” He told Gracie about the kitten and Bucky arriving and then taking him home to get cleaned up. “We officially got together the year I turned 17, and we’ve been together ever since.”

Gracie let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the love story, Steve. He is your other half.”

Steve admitted, “Bucky’s not just my other half. I am him, and he is me. I don’t know where I end, and he starts.” He rubbed absent-mindedly at his wrist where his watch usually sat.

Steve startled when Gracie lightly punched him in the shoulder. “You’ve gone and made me cry, you jerk,” she laughed as she wiped her eyes. “Let’s talk about other things that don’t wrench our hearts out.”

They stayed for another hour or so, until Shirley and Evelyn were tired of dancing. As they left, Evelyn gave Steve and Gracie big hugs, saying, “Thank you for doing this for us. This was the best night I’ve ever had!”

Nodding her agreement, Shirley linked arms with Steve and said, “And don’t worry, Steve, your secret is safe with us.” She was silent a moment before laughing, “We don’t want to lose our bodyguard!” The others joined her laughter.

All in all, it was a good evening, even with missing Bucky. Steve hadn’t realized how much he had been hiding himself the last few months without Frankie and Freddie and George to talk to. Even though he now had the lung capacity of a racehorse, Steve felt like he was finally able to take a deep breath.

When they got back to the hotel, one of the other dancers spotted them and said excitedly, “I’m so glad I caught y’all. Senator Brandt’s man came by and said we’re cancelling the rest of the tour here. We’re headed to Italy!”

Steve was finally going to Europe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am a sucker for kudos and comments.
> 
> Next up: Azzano!


End file.
